He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 125: His Lips Almost Touched Her Face

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: His Lips Almost Touched Her Face

Natalie Morgan was stunned for a moment.

’He knows I’m the one who sent him the painting?’

’After she "died"?’

’What a joke.’

"As it happens, I’ve recently become interested in painting. It’s a great honor to have Miss Childs as my teacher. If you feel the pay is too low, Miss Childs, you can name any price." He calmly gazed at her face. "Don’t worry about whether I can afford it. I have money."

"I heard Felix mention that you’ve studied design, Mr. Grant. You’re not exactly someone who can’t draw, are you?"

"Design and ink wash painting are still different." He offered her a cup of coffee. "I ground the beans myself. Have a taste."

"Thank you, but I don’t drink coffee." She didn’t take it.

He held it out for a moment longer before setting it aside.

"Miss Childs, you seem to have a big problem with me. Is it because of what happened in the restroom last time?"

Natalie Morgan didn’t want to waste her breath on him. She just wanted to finish the lesson and get out of there as soon as possible.

"Mr. Grant, shall we begin?"

She looked at him, signaling for him to take out his own tools.

"In that case, please demonstrate first, Miss Childs." He held out his hands.

Natalie Morgan set up the easel and arranged her tools, brushes, and paints.

While she painted, he stood behind her and watched.

His body was very close to hers, so close she could feel his warmth.

Uncomfortable, she pushed the drawing board forward slightly. "You need to draw this line first, and then add color according to the light and overlapping shadows, like this..."

He suddenly leaned down, getting so close that his lips nearly brushed against her cheek.

She leaped up in shock. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"Didn’t you tell me to look at the painting?" he asked, feigning innocence.

The woman’s face was taut. He raised an eyebrow. "You go ahead and paint. I’m going to..." He pointed to the adjacent bathroom. "...take a shower."

Natalie Morgan was at a complete loss.

In the middle of all this, Felix Finch called.

"Natalie, I’ll be back in Fenchest in a few days. When I get back, I have something important to tell you."

Natalie Morgan froze when she heard that.

Felix Finch rarely used such a grave tone. "What is it? Is it about me?"

"Yes. I can’t say it over the phone. Let’s talk when we meet, okay?" His voice was anxious, yet steady.

"Alright. We’ll talk when you get to Fenchest."

"Okay. Wait for me."

After hanging up, Natalie Morgan stared into space for a while.

"Miss Childs." The bathroom door opened a crack, and the man called out to her. "Could you bring me the bathrobe from the sofa? Thanks."

Natalie Morgan glanced at the neatly folded bathrobe.

Unwillingly, she muttered, "Can’t you get it yourself?"

"If you don’t mind, I can just come out." He wasn’t wearing anything.

She thought he was insane. Reluctantly, she picked up the bathrobe, went to the bathroom door, and asked, "Here you go?"

A hand reached through the crack in the door. It didn’t take the bathrobe, but instead grabbed her wrist and yanked her inside.

An overwhelming kiss caught Natalie Morgan completely off guard.

He pinned her against the steamy wall, forceful and domineering, like a man possessed.

Unable to push him away, she raised her leg and kneed him between his legs—the most vulnerable spot.

"HISS..." The man’s face contorted in pain. Clutching himself, he gasped, "You... are you trying to make sure I can never have kids?"

"Theodore Grant, if you ever take liberties with me again, next time..." She picked up a fruit knife from the nearby counter and said fiercely, "...I’ll stick this in your chest."

"You make it sound like we have some deep-seated hatred between us."

She glared at him. ’No hatred?’

’Our hatred runs as deep as the ocean.’

He walked toward her, still hunched over...

His phone rang.

Clutching the knife, Natalie Morgan defensively took two steps back and quickly left.

Theodore Grant clutched his still-aching groin with one hand and grabbed his phone with the other, his expression grim.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Grant, I’ve discovered an earth-shattering secret." Weller Kendall’s voice was tinged with excitement. "Guess who I saw?"

Theodore Grant grabbed a towel and began drying his hair as he walked out of the bathroom.

’Hiss... damn, that fucking hurts.’

"What earth-shattering secret? Spit it out."

"Mr. Grant, it’s Maxwell Morgan—your wife’s father... He’s not dead."

The man, still grimacing in pain, instantly sobered. "What did you say? Maxwell Morgan isn’t dead?"

"Not only is Maxwell Morgan not dead, but he’s been living under a different name in Yarrow. He even got married and had a child..."

Theodore Grant was stunned.

’Then who was the person who committed suicide in prison back then?’

’And who was buried?’

"You saw him?"

After Maxwell Morgan was arrested back then, Natalie Morgan had tearfully begged Theodore Grant to find a way to prove her father’s innocence.

It wasn’t that Theodore Grant hadn’t asked people to look into Maxwell Morgan’s case.

But he admitted that he hadn’t taken the matter seriously at the time.

Natalie Morgan had always suspected—and eventually became convinced—that he was the one who had framed her father, leading to his arrest.

But it really wasn’t him.

Theodore Grant stroked his chin, carefully recalling the details of what had happened back then.

’This couldn’t be a ruse... to fake his death and escape, could it?’

"Didn’t you ask me to investigate the cause of Maxwell Morgan’s suicide back then? As it happens, the police officer who handled the case back then is in Yarrow. He said that after Maxwell Morgan was reported, he was released due to insufficient evidence. As for the supposed suicide, that was completely fabricated. The man himself is in Yarrow, living a very comfortable life."

Theodore Grant was silent.

’The suicide incident that caused such a huge stir back then was fake news?’

’Fake news?’

’Just like the fake news of Natalie Morgan’s death three years ago?’

’Why does this feel so familiar?’

’The same faked death, the same fake news, the same fake ashes...’

’All these illusions seemed to point to one person—Felix Finch.’

’Could it be that Felix Finch was the one behind it all?’

’The man was directing a grand play.’

’After meticulously setting up such a grand scheme, what exactly was his goal?’

"Weller Kendall, right now. Immediately. I don’t care what methods you use, bring him to Fenchest. I want to see him at once."

"Understood."

Felix Finch. His good friend of over a decade had not only stolen his wife and turned against him, but he also held unknown secrets.

’This just got interesting.’

...

After leaving Theodore Grant’s house, Natalie Morgan was in a foul mood. She sat alone on a roadside bench for a long time.

It wasn’t until a neighbor called to ask when she was coming back that she snapped out of the daze she’d been in all afternoon and headed home to take care of her baby.

Night fell, and the streetlights stretched the shadows of pedestrians.

She walked with a hint of loneliness.

Lost in thought for too long, she absentmindedly turned into a small alley. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The streetlight was broken, but turning back to find another way would be a long detour, so she decided to quicken her pace, walk to the end of the alley, and then hail a cab.

"Stop." A strange man in a black face mask blocked her path. "Leave the money."

Natalie Morgan froze in fear.

Clutching her bag tightly, she took two steps back and shook her head in terror. "I don’t have any money."

"Then leave the bag."

The assailant reached out to snatch her bag, but she held on for dear life.

There was no money in the bag, but it contained many things that were very important to her.

During the struggle, the assailant’s patience reached its limit.

Furious and frustrated, he suddenly pulled a sharp knife from his waistband and lunged viciously at Natalie Morgan.

She instinctively covered her head to protect herself.

Just as the gleaming knife was about to stab her, a large hand suddenly shot out and gripped the blade tightly.

Her eyes trembling, she looked toward the newcomer. Silhouetted against the light, all she could see was that blood-soaked hand, dripping... drop by drop...